Dear Santa
by Doitsu
Summary: Every year, Russia would write to Santa wishing for one single thing. Every year, the space beneath the Christmas tree remained empty of it. But maybe Santa has different plans this year... RoChu LJ SecretSanta for Mylovelylaith!
1. Chapter 1

Sorry this took so long!! I went to Disney World in Orlando (OMGWTFBBQ!! My first time in the United States of Alfred!!! It was marvellous.), had no internet and now I'm loaded with work and thought I should at least post the first part!! (I'm not happy with it at ALL, though!) This was written for Mylovelylaith in the LiveJournal RoChu Secret Santa Fic Exchange! Merry (late) Christmas, dear! I hope you have a great time and enjoy opening (reading!) your presents (rofl).

**Dear Santa**

It was that time of the year again.

January 7th.

Christmas in Russia.

He didn't like Christmas.

Of course he would smile. Or pretend he was.

Of course he would celebrate.

That didn't mean he felt merry.

Christmas had always been a rather depressing affair. For one, there was General Winter to contend with. That meant that it was cold.

And it wasn't nice-cold like it was in Northern England when the first snow fell and people packed themselves in front of the warm ovens, telling stories and drinking tea; or exciting-cold as it was in America, where children and adults alike practically flung themselves into the streets and parks full of freshly-fallen snow to build snowmen, igloos and make snow angels.

In Russia, it was _cold_. It was a creeping, bone-deep coldness, with terrible, icy-winded weather.

And then there was Christmas. Christmas was even worse.

Each year, Ivan would make a list. One of those lists that small children fill with all their wishes for Christmas and send to Santa. Children usually received the presents they wanted. They wrote to Santa andtheir wishes were heard.

Ivan wrote a list every year. And unlike the lists those greedy children made, his list only contained one word.

_Yao._

The first time he had sent his letter to Santa, he had been sure he would be heard. He was only asking for one thing, after all.

But when Christmas rolled around, there were only the usual things under his tree.

The following Christmases, he had written the letter again. He had even added "please" to it. And still, his wish went unheard.

But with the years, he had gotten desperate.

One year, he wrote a longer letter, cursing and threatening Santa. Needless to say, there had been no gifts that year.

Another year, he wrote to Santa and promised he wouldn't drink vodka on Christmas. Nothing.

This year, he had decided to do his utmost to please Santa.

He had made sure he was a good boy, made a point of not declaring war on anyone, bit his lip whenever he felt the urge to make someone become one with Mother Russia and he even didn't bully Lithuania, Latvia and Estonia as much.

And today was the day. A few weeks ago, he had kissed the letter before throwing it in the slot of a letterbox.

He was sitting in the Cathedral of St. Basil the Blessed, that colourful, imposing church on Red Square in Moscow, listening to religious hymns.

But his mind wasn't on the Russian Orthodox priest in front, nor was it on the large choir singing so beautifully.

Ivan was glancing at his watch repeatedly, wondering when exactly Santa and Snyegorochka, the Snow Maiden who always accompanied Santa to Russia, would stop at his house to deposit presents under the tree.

In Russia, the festivities began with the rise of the first star and ended with the opening of the presents. He couldn't help but hope that he wouldn't have to open any presents except for that one present he wanted most of all.

The hymn ended and everyone knelt on the little cushions placed before them.

There were many hours left to go.

-888-

When he arrived back at his brightly decorated home, Ivan was greeted by Belarus, Ukraine, Lithuania, Estonia and Latvia. He noticed that the latter wasn't as scared as usual, which was probably related to the red tint of his cheeks and the glass of sparkly wine in his hand.

Just in time, he remembered to decline the glass of vodka that Belarus was offering him and when they all sat down to eat the traditional Holy Supper, he couldn't take his mind off the fact that soon, soon, soon they would go to the adjacent room and unpack the presents beneath the tree!

Unfortunately, Holy Supper was extremely long by tradition. It consisted of 12 different foods, each symbolising one of the twelve Apostles. Russia repeatedly threw anxious glances toward the closed door leading to the next room, the _exciting_ room.

"Say, Ivan, what did you wish for this Christmas?", Belarus asked him across the table, her voice slightly husky as she slid one of her feet over his.

Ivan glanced up distractedly. "Hm? Me?"

"Yesss." She extended the word into a hiss of pleasure of having his eyes rest on her.

He couldn't help the pang of hope and fear when considering whether his only wish would come true.

"You'll see. It might be under the tree." But he knew, deep down, that it wouldn't be. It hadn't ever been.

-888-

It was finally time! They were all getting up rather slowly while he was already standing by the door, by far the most excited, but that was true every year. He first got excited and then everything came crashing down and he'd spend the rest of the night drinking away his disappointment and sorrow.

It was always the same.

The other nations were already watching him worriedly, knowing the deterioration of his mood that would soon follow.

The door opened and the tall, glowing Christmas tree momentarily drew his attention before he dropped his gaze eagerly to the presents beneath the tree.

They were of all sizes and shapes, but none was what he had hoped for.

As the others filed in and took in his facial expression, they backed off and kept their Christmas cheer to themselves.

He unwillingly walked to the presents and opened his own.

It hurt.

It hurt because each year, he was surrounded by cheer and was forced to compare two lists. The list he made for Santa and the list of things he actually received for Christmas.

_Dear Santa, please, please this year give me the only thing I want. Give me Yao. Please. Ivan_

And what he did receive:

_Five bottles of expensive Vodka_

_One pair of new mittens (beige)_

_A book titled "International Relations—The Art of Peace and Treaty-making"_

_A pair of socks (beige)_

_One nuclear warhead_

_A scarf (white)_

The two lists couldn't have been more different.

It was the discrepancy that hurt.

He moved over to the sofa by the dark window, watching the thick snowflakes tumbling from the night sky and gathering on the outer window ledge.

The excited voices of Latvia, Lithuania and Ukraine rose from where they were unpacking their own gifts and reminded him of what he didn't have.

Damn Santa. He had asked every year. Every year. And this year, he had done everything to be good! Even no vodka on Christmas! But screw that. Santa wasn't complying? Well, so wasn't he.

He rose to grab one of the bottles he had been gifted with and was about to drop onto his sofa for the rest of the evening when he heard the knocker on the main door.

"Are we expecting someone?", Ukraine asked him tentatively and Ivan could only shake his head. Unless England had decided to pay them a visit as he sometimes did, there was no one they were expecting.

"It might be England", he said and left the others to their unpacking and cooing over their presents.

Passing the windows, the weather outside looked absolutely terrible and Ivan wondered who would be brave enough to travel in a snowstorm such as this.

He grabbed the doorknob, twisted the key and then opened the door.

It was Yao.

Excitement washed through him. He was struck speechless for a moment, looking at his granted wish, standing on his doorstep. Did Santa... He did!

A wide smile blossomed on his face and he could feel the years of hurt and disappointment vanishing.

"...Did Santa send you?", he asked, barely able to contain his excitement.

Silence. Yao regarded him with a surprised look and a slightly disbelieving lift of his left eyebrow.

"You believe in Santa?"

**TBC**

:D Merry Christmas and a happy new year 2010 for all of you!! (yes, yes sort of late ;))


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I'm back! Had a busy week, but today I found some time to finish this two-shot! :) Thank you everyone for your reviews! They were very motivating! I hope this chapter will do them credit! Much love! Doitsu

Disclaimer: Hetalia Axis Powes and all associated characters belong to Hidekazu Himaruya! No copyright infringement intended.

**Dear Santa**

-Part 2-

Yao was flustered.

He had been home with his siblings, celebrating Christmas not because he was Christian (which he wasn't) or because he believed in Santa (which he didn't), but because it was nice to have everyone come to his house, to cook for them and give as well as receive presents.

It had been snowing lightly and he had been absently staring out the window, as in the adjoining room Japan, Hong Kong and Korea were clinking their glasses together and Taiwan was singing a Christmas carol in her cheerful, broken Chinese.

Yao had watched the flurry of snowflakes falling in silence, gaze swooping and diving through the gusts of wind that blew them against the cold window pane. Despite the Christmas cheer suffusing the air and dancing in the atmosphere just as the snow danced outside, he hadn't been able to keep his thoughts on the here and now.

Instead, his mind had drifted to Ivan, who believed in everything that he didn't believe in.

Christmas.

Santa.

All these things could bring a smile to Russia's face, and through his delight, it could also bring colour and true cheer to Yao's Christmas. Only he wasn't here... Yao had known, rationally, that Christmas was celebrated in the close circle of one's family, but it had not kept him from wanting to spend it with Ivan.

Ivan was probably happy with Christmas as it was; it wasn't as though he wanted Yao there. It was more of a selfish desire on China's part.

The window had rattled a bit as a particularly strong wind beat air and snow against its panes.

He had understood. Of course he couldn't go to Russia's house for Christmas—he had no place there. Reasoning told him so. Now, if only his heart would understand it, too.

An involuntary sigh had escaped him and suddenly, he had had pale hands darting around him to rest on his _chest_ and then _squeeze _it.

He had growled.

"Korea!!"

The hands had vanished quickly and he had turned to glare at the nation that had sneaked up behind him.

Korea had grinned and apologized. "Sorry!" He hadn't _looked_ sorry.

"Just thought you looked sort of out of it and couldn't resist!"

Yao had wanted to continue glaring, but Japan had come in and fixed him with his deep and knowing eyes that left him defenceless.

"It's Russia, isn't it? You miss him."

Yao had felt like hissing like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, but he had held it back. It was true after all.

"Just go to his house, knock politely and I promise you he will be delighted to have you."

Yao's mind had momentarily fallen into the gutter, but he had recovered quickly as he understood what Japan was trying to say.

"You think...?"

And that was how he had got himself into the present situation. He had hesitated briefly in front of Russia's door before knocking timidly but firmly.

And after a while of standing in the snowstorm that had felt like the inside of his freezer or worse, the door had opened to a surprised and then beaming Ivan, who looked like all his wishes had come true by just having Yao there.

And maybe they had.

"...Did Santa send you?"

Yao blinked, flustered and taken aback, and raised an eyebrow. "You believe in Santa?"

Of course Russia believed in Santa, he knew that, but it had slipped out nonetheless. Yao bit his tongue in silent punishment.

Ivan looked like the wind had been taken from his sails, his face falling and the smile slipping off his lips.

Yao's frantic mind conjured a reassuring smile onto his face and he took a step toward Russia.

"I… He did! He… Santa… he just dropped me off, see, right over there, by that tree!"

"Oh yes?", Ivan's voice grew excited again. He leaned around Yao to search the sky with eager eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa on his sleigh.

"Was Snyegorochka with him? The Snow Maiden?"

Yao was confused for a moment, but then assented, even though he wasn't sure who Russia was referring to.

"Look, she brought all this snow", he settled on saying, relatively sure he could not go wrong by assuming that the Snow Maiden brought snow.

Ivan's face lit up some more and Yao's heart warmed at the sight.

Finally, Ivan gave up on looking for Santa and his eyes settled on Yao, who felt Russia's gaze and shivered—perhaps from the cold around him, perhaps from the warmth within him.

"That means that you are my present?"

Yao could never deny him when his face shone like this. "I... I suppose so, aru..."

Unexpectedly, Russia's hand darted forward to grab his arm and Yao could do nothing but let himself be dragged into the house by an excited Russia.

Ivan stopped in the entrance hall after closing the door. Suddenly, Yao could feel the happiness falling away and when Ivan turned to him, his face had turned intense, childish delight all drained away. Yao wondered where it had gone, but he knew that Ivan's joy was only a short-lived, precious glimpse of the nation he could be.

"Yao", Ivan breathed as he reached for him and Yao let himself be embraced, because it wasn't a hug, no, it was a great deal more and Ivan needed it right now.

"Yao, Yao, Yao..." It was as though Ivan was attempting to keep him there with his name alone, with this mantra of loneliness flowing from his lips. Russia's fingers were twitching against his back, fingertips burying themselves in his skin as though he was trying to hold him fast, even if Yao was doing nothing to escape his arms.

"Shhh... I'm here now, aren't I?"

His own fingers wandered up Ivan's broad back in what might have been a caress or simple comfort.

Russia's breath hitched and suddenly, the air was knocked out of Yao's lungs as he was pressed tightly against Ivan. He gasped. The crushing force of Ivan's arms was pressing in around his ribcage, making him wince and struggle for breath.

He was about to utter a sound of discomfort when Russia's vulnerable voice resonated from Ivan's chest into his own, reaching into him to touch his heart.

"Are you really there?"

He gave up breathing and ignored the pain of Russia's crushing weight, because the pain in Ivan's voice was so much greater and twisted his heart with its desolation.

Yao couldn't speak, but he tightened his own arms around Ivan, locking his hands behind Russia's back and drawing him closer still. When Ivan started trembling, Yao used the last breath left in his lungs to whisper through the suffocating pressure.

"I'm here."

And the pressure diminished until Ivan stepped back and cast his eyes to the floor.

"For decades, every year... Yao, every year I wrote to Santa and asked him for one thing. One thing. And I waited every Christmas to see if he would... if he would grant me my only wish."

Yao frowned, concerned at the vulnerable and pained tone of voice.

"What did you wish for?", he dared to ask softly.

His question went unheard, as Russia seemed lost in memory, lost in past Christmases that had brought pain when they should have brought happiness instead.

"I said I'd be good, I said I'd not drink vodka anymore, I said I'd try my best..." Defeat coloured his voice with dark colours.

Yao felt his eyes sting and swallowed. It hurt him to think that Ivan had wished for something for so long, had so innocently waited for something that Santa would never bring, because he didn't exist.

"And never... never did he hear me."

Yao bit his lip and tried to think of something comforting to say, anything.

"...Maybe you had the wrong address?"

And Ivan laughed.

Yao stared, confused but glad he had managed to bring the smile back to Ivan's face.

Mirth and a giddy kind of excitement bubbled in Ivan's eyes as he squeezed Yao's shoulders.

"What are you saying, Yao? Of course it was the right address."

Confusion escaped him in a breath. "Huh?"

"Santa got my letter and gave me my present this year!"

More confusion. "Wh-what's the present?"

Ivan looked at him with a half-tender, half-exasperated expression.

"Why, my present is you, Yao."

"I'm your present?" Yao blinked rapidly. Did that mean— "You... you wished for _me_?"

Ivan nodded happily, taking one of Yao's hands in his and beginning to absently draw circles with his thumb on Yao's palm.

"You said it yourself—Santa brought you here in his sleigh. I wished for you and because I didn't begin any wars, didn't drink vodka and wasn't mean to Latvia, Santa came tonight to drop you off."

Yao's breath hitched. Ivan's joy was precious to him and it was of utmost importance that he continued to believe that Santa had brought Yao as a present.

He conjured the brightest smile he had and nodded. He ignored the little tug his heart gave as his mind again and again repeated words in his head. He wished for you. He wished for you. For _you_. Yao shushed his mind. He wasn't entitled to Ivan's heart or life.

The hand Russia had been holding was suddenly used to tug him along through the entrance hall toward the sound of music and celebration.

"I'll show you to my sisters!", Ivan was excitedly calling as he used his superior strength to drag a stumbling China along.

"Wait!", Yao called.

Ivan stopped and looked at him in askance.

Hesitation and the yearning to be with Ivan warred within him.

The sound of Ivan's family cheerfully singing a Christmas carol drifted toward them through a closed door. The warm candle light filtered through the slit underneath and bled into the corridor they were standing in, bathing their feet in borrowed light. _Christmas is a family occasion. A family holiday. _The words resonated through his head, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts and of his consciousness. _It's family only..._

"Are you sure, Ivan...? It's Christmas. It's..." He couldn't bring himself to utter the words, those incriminating words that would shatter their connection, the bond they had shared until now. _Get a grip on your emotions_, his mind frowned at him.

Ivan was still looking at him curiously.

He took another breath and let it wash over and around his next words. "It's for family only."

Yao desperately reached for more words to soften the blow. Maybe it was more a blow against himself than Ivan. "I don't want to intrude."

"You aren't intruding", Ivan whispered, an unreadable look surfacing in his eyes before sinking into their amethyst depths again. It was as though he had made a decision and when he met Yao's gaze he seemed to have new resolve.

"You have every reason and right to be here."

The light shimmering from under the door became a warmer shade and flickered over their feet playfully as though to draw them in.

"But..."

Ivan shook his head and held his eyes. He lifted one of Yao's hands to his mouth and, never losing eye contact, pressed a deliberate and soft kiss against his delicate skin.

"You are exactly where you should be, my Yao... Because family cannot intrude on family."

Yao's heart felt like it was bursting and when Ivan's larger hands left his to cup his face, he let it happen. With anticipation he hadn't felt so strongly in centuries, he closed his eyes and surrendered his mouth to Ivan, who stood over him and slowly, oh so slowly, descended to fit his lips against Yao's. Maybe he could have Ivan, maybe he could start something that he had not dared to start before.

Ivan's lips eased the pressure on his own for a moment and his arms tightened around his back as if conveying a wordless message.

"You're mine."

The tender whisper ghosted over Yao's lips, a reassurance, a confession, a promise, and Yao shivered in response.

And this time, he knew, the shiver was from the warmth.

**The End**


End file.
